The trees groaned as we moved through them; the sound became more pronounced as they grew thicker. Close up, the bark on their sides seemed to move, creating a rumbling croaking that made my teeth chatter from the sheer unnaturalness. Whatever was going on in the Leftovers, it was against all laws of nature. It reminded me of my first mission into the Immortal Plane, where everything felt strange and wicked—except that this wild territory was in my own backyard.
"A little to the left," Sike advised from behind me. "The scanner is working a bit better. The creature looks huge. It’s moving away from us at a fairly steady pace."
"And yet we can't hear it," Dorian said, his voice wary. We fell into a hush until the trees in front of us roughly formed the shape of a corridor, as if welcoming us to walk through.
I held up a hand, fearing a trap, and my team stopped and studied the strange, cavernous passageway.
It wasn’t my imagination. The trees were moving before our eyes, and they were letting us through. Why? Were they reacting to our presence as humans and vampires, or did they do the same for all sizeable creatures? Were they leading us somewhere unsavory? I made a mental list of the questions popping up in my mind that I needed to tell Cam to put in a report later—Bryce had been gleeful about having a grunt to do all of our paperwork, and his nephew actually seemed to enjoy it.
“Do we keep forging ahead through these trees?” I asked Bryce. “I think it’s worth it, but they might be acting like Venus flytraps, luring us in just to trap us.”
Bryce eyed them. “Let’s keep going. They haven’t been moving that fast. We can escape through the treetops if we need to.” Dorian nodded at this recommendation. The vampires probably had no worries about speed when they were up against trees.
Eventually, as we slowly trekked through the forest, climbing over logs, the trees gave way to an elevated ridge, and we broke into late evening sunlight. Here, the sediment was a mix of mortal soil and pinkish immortal rock. Rotten grasses bunched around the ground, yellowed and slimy. I grimaced for the moment as the smell of sulfur hit me. It reminded me of the water near the Hive and the waterways we’d used to travel to get to Itzarriol. I hoped our allies were doing well.
The injured creature’s screams were getting closer. My boot hit something silver and glinting. I stooped to snatch up a dirty pocketknife, rusted shut.
I pried it open. There was an inscription on the blade. For Joey. As Cam wrinkled his nose, I smelled it, then tested its edge against my thumbnail. Despite the rusty handle, the blade itself shone. “Someone’s sharpened it recently.”
Bryce scowled. "But they didn’t bother themselves about the rust? Not to dash your hopes, Sloane, but the odds for this one aren’t looking great. Especially without a knife "
The rust was strange, but it was the unsettling implications of a human missing their knife that stirred my blood. "I hope they're packing heat. Let’s move on."
“The beast keeps moving away from us,” Sike reported.
Dorian and I made it over the ridge, following the sounds of the screams. In a small clearing beyond the ridge, one of the blue rodents lay in the middle of the wild grass, scrabbling on an injured leg. A few other spiky rodents sniffed it, making quiet, worried noises, but scattered as we approached. Sike bent to examine it. My heart sank as he shook his head. I debated putting it out of its misery, but, to my shock, the creature squawked at Sike and began to drag itself into the underbrush, disappearing from sight.
"We're close," Sike said, voice hushed in the gloom. "Or… it's close." He pointed past me, following a left-tilting gulley, and I followed the direction. The trees seemed denser around the area; it seemed they were moving toward us. The air felt heavier, with something more than humidity.
I was about to give the signal to fan out into defensive position when Sike shook his head. “Wait—it’s moving—much faster than before. Maybe it caught our scent?”
Bryce let out an uneasy grunt at the dwindling light above us. "Are you sure you want to charge into battle, Sloane? It'll be nightfall soon. And all of these creatures are much more suited to fighting us in the dark. We'd have to rely on Dorian and Sike’s senses." And although Sike was tough, he had come along as a researcher, not a warrior.
I hesitated. Then, Dorian inhaled sharply, his eyes dilating with a flash of darkness. His voice came out as a growl. "Blood. I smell blood."
“Let’s follow it,” I barked, and we booked it down the gulley, crashing into another clearing where a tumble of boulders sat next to a tiny, scum-filled pond. Red splashed garishly over the biggest boulder, dripping off its surface. It looked fresh, even in the low evening light—bright red, human blood. A discarded weapon, a weathered standard-issue Bureau pistol, lay in the grass. The gun barrel was snapped in half.
"We need to move faster,” I said to my team. “This happened recently. If we don’t find them soon, we’ll give up and go back, but if we can catch up, we might get to them before they bleed out.” I got worried glances, but no disagreement.
I kicked up the pace, following a bloody trail that went right into another patch of trees. Sike checked the scanner, directing us as the monster moved rapidly through the forest. We pushed along, driven by the proof of someone out there suffering.
Through the trees, the trail grew fainter and fainter, appearing in splatters and then drops. I bit my lip as
